


The Audition

by Ramblingandpie



Series: Adynaton [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dystopia, Flash Fic, Original Fiction, adynaton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblingandpie/pseuds/Ramblingandpie
Summary: Agnys faces a potentially life-changing interview.





	The Audition

Dr. Brownwell seemed stern. Agnys shifted in her chair as the doctor looked her over, clipboard in hand, lips pressed right together.

"Let's see," Brownwell said, leafing through the papers on the clipboard.

"Your condition is terminal without treatment. You probably have two to three years left, but you would need to get treatment in the next year to have a chance of it working. Past that, we’re looking at increasing life expectancy by maybe ten years." She paused. "Symptoms won't be very apparent until after the treatment is needed. That could be a problem."

Agnys smiled. She hated how she always smiled when uncomfortable, but it was pointless to try to change it now. "They mentioned that in the intake."

"Yes. Well, Agnys," Brownwell said, "Tell me about yourself."

"Um. There's not much to tell, really. I've worked at Cathyco for eight years as a cashier. I watch Healing Miracles every day. That one's my favorite. If I get accepted, I would love to be on Healing Miracles. I would love to meet Marck. And I watch Medical Mysteries on my day off." She paused. Brownwell seemed to be staring past her clipboard and at the wall behind Agnys's head.

Agnys continued. "Um. Is that the kind of information you're looking for?"

Brownwell sighed. "Don't you do anything interesting?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something that people would want to watch. I'll be frank with you, Agnys. You don't look sick. You listed your only hobby as watching TV. You hardly have a social media presence. You lack passion."

"I don't understand. I thought that-"

"I get it. You thought that you could come in here and have all of your problems taken care of. We pay for medical treatments for hundreds of successful applicants, of course, but we need something in return. We need something we can market. Your condition is not rare enough that people would watch just for that. You have no charisma. You're boring, not particularly pretty, and, judging from your transcript, not very smart. And you don't look sick."

Agnys could not tell if she might start laughing or crying.

"But I've worked hard all my life."

"You're young, which is the only point in your favor. But you've been at the same company for eight years and haven't advanced. Why not?"

"Well, they haven't advanced any of the cashiers yet. They said-" her breath caught in her throat for a moment, but she composed herself and continued- "They said that once I hit ten years, I could apply if a position opened up. They said I was good. They said I could be head cashier. And then I would qualify for insurance."

"And you waited?" Brownwell said, with a tone in her voice that most people reserved for only the most extreme of disappointments.

"Of course."

"You didn't look at other options, start your own business, or save up for an emergency?"

"They would only give me 60 hours a week. I couldn't save anything on that. If I had made head cashier-"

"But you didn't. And I'm sorry, Agnys, but you simply didn’t work hard enough or smart enough. You ought to have invested in yourself."

Agnys could feel the tears beginning to gather.

Brownwell sighed. She knew that the shows were a last resort of people whose poor planning put them in these situations, but why did they always assign her to audition people who were boring on top of all that? She handed the box of tissues to Agnys.

"Look. Hold yourself together. I simply can't accept your application today, but I do have one possibility for you."

Agnys looked up through her tears.

"Start building a social media presence. Any kind. Video, holo, writing, crafting, whatever. Give it three months. Get yourself some market share, and then apply again." She looked at the paperwork. "You live with your family?" Agnys nodded. Brownwell exhaled slowly, covering a sigh. Another drain on someone else's resources. "So keep your chin up, see if they can help, and apply again."

Agnys smiled the smile of hope. Brownwell smiled a practiced smile of encouragement. She knew that there was no real hope, of course. She wasn't a naive optimist; she didn’t hope that others would be able to solve her problems. The girl had not invested any time or effort into learning how to develop market share for herself, and there was little chance of her succeeding now. But it got the girl out of her office. On the off chance that she managed to succeed--it happened, occasionally--Brownwell would snap up the application when it came in. If not, she would be able to cycle it to another representative and Agnys would become someone else’s problem.

After Agnys left, Brownwell took up her traditional post-interview routine: ensuring that there were plenty of tissues for the next applicant; arranging the pillows just so; and, in the back of her mind, reflecting on the investment that she had made in herself as she adjusted the nameplate on her desk: E. Brownwell, Doctorate in Interventional Marketing and Reality Management.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this several years ago and, while I was expecting the work to be slightly prophetic, I was not expecting things to happen so quickly with the advent of Go-Fund Mes and such. This is first posted work of the Adynaton series, a set of flash fiction pieces set in the same future world but otherwise unconnected.


End file.
